


Elipses

by rickyisms



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Breakup Sex, M/M, but like 4 years after the breakup, consent isn't fully communicated but no one does anything they don't want to in the moment, fellas is it gay to only talk about your feelings balls deep in your bro, generous interpretations of those elipses, jackparse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rickyisms/pseuds/rickyisms
Summary: Kent shows up at the Haus...a lot can happen in a ...
Relationships: Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Elipses

**Author's Note:**

> Ngozi owns these characters, she also owns the dialogue, I just filled in some of the blanks for all of you out there with filthy filthy minds. that being said god i hope ngozi never sees this.  
i am on tumblr omg-whiskey

Kent went to the Haus with one goal in mind. Jack was going to sign in Las Vegas. It was going to be like the Q again, no look cross ice pass, one timers to end all one timers. Kent had been working on his lacrosse goal, and he wanted to know what Jack thought, wanted to know if he could finally do something Jack couldn’t. 

He didn’t expect to end up fucking Zimmerman that night, but it kind of just happened. They were sitting on Jack’s bed and Kent hadn’t sat on a twin sized bed in years now. An NHL contract could afford him at least a Queen. They were talking about hockey, that’s all they had left, really. Kent didn’t dare ask about Bob and Alicia, all though he was wondering, and Jack’s school shit went right over his head. Since when was Zimms smart?

Jack had essays on his desk, there was a calendar with different deadlines circled. Kent left home when he was 16, basically stopped paying attention to anything that wasn’t hockey. They gave him nearly a million dollars when he turned 18, no one expected him to learn how to format a research paper, or use a stove, or talk about his feelings. 

“Providence is fine but they don’t really have a lot of history, same with the Schooners, y’know?” Kent said. 

Jack just nodded. 

“Though the Schooners are on a real hot streak it’d be cool to get in on that.”

“Yeah,” Jack said.

“You just have to figure out your options. There are a tonne.”

“I guess I’m focused on finishing this year and then I’ll sign somewhere,” Jack said.

“Somewhere… you have no clue?” Kent pressed. He leant in closer. Jack’s hands were clasped in his lap so Kent put his hand on top, he tried to meet Jack’s eye but Jack wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t push Kent away so that was a start. 

“I mean… it could be Montreal, could be L.A. Okay?I don’t know,” Jack said. 

Kent could tell he was stressed, that edge was creeping back into his voice. It was the same one that dominated his voice the summer before the draft. 

“What about Las Vegas?” Kent finally just asks.

Jack folds in on himself, his shoulders hunch and he just shakes his head

“I… I don’t know. Okay?!” Jack turns to Kent. 

Kent was expecting anger, he was expecting Jack to explode. How dare he show up here, how dare he ask Jack to come to a place he swallowed an entire bottle of pills to avoid. How dare he remind him of the worst time he’d ever had. There was none of that. Just sadness and… maybe- _ if  _ Kent was reading this right, a little bit of longing. Jack moved closer to Kent and Kent leaned forward. He kissed Jack to make up for lost time. 

It was slow, closed lipped, and then Jack took a breath and Kent slid his tongue between Jack’s lips and Jack wrapped his hand around the back of Kent’s neck and pulled him onto his lap. Kent practically jumped at the chance.

“Pars--” Jack said, breathing into his mouth. 

Jack got his hands on Kent’s zipper and pulled at his pants. Kent could feel Jack, hard underneath of him. Jack was grabbing at he jeans, holding his ass in his hands. Kent stood up for a brief second to get his pants off. He was wearing black briefs underneath and his dick was straining to get out. 

“-- Kenny… I can’t do this,” Jack said, but he planted another kiss on Kent’s lips

“... Jack come on,” Kent said, more confused than anything else.

“Let me touch you,” Kent whispered against his neck. 

Jack nodded, eyes snapped closed. Kent rain his hands up and down his sides. He fisted the back of Jack’s t-shirt and sucked a mark into Jack’s neck. Jack’s hands pulled at Kent’s ass. He reached for a bottle of lube that he kept in the top drawer of the night stand. The Zimms that Kent knew kept lube and condoms in between his mattress and bed frame, lived in fear of his mother finding out. Jack pressed a finger against Kent. Kent clasped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out.

“Fuck, Zimms,” Kent whispers, it’s more of a breath than anything else. 

“Just chill with me, okay?” Kent whispers again.

“No, I,” Jack stammered “--uh.” The noise he made was criminal as Kent sucked another hickey just below the neckline of his shirt. 

“There’s so much,” Jack sighed. 

Kent pulled Jack’s face closer to his and shook his head. 

“Not now just… fuck me, dude.”

Jack stretched Kent out, quickly. There was a terseness to his hands, and Kent supposed it had always been there. When they were younger, Kent knew he was anxious about being caught, about being seen with another boy. Nowt though there was no reason for the nerves other than his own presence. 

Kent helped Jack shimmy out of his pants. And then he got on his hands and knees on the bed, he looked back at Jack and smirked. Jack stood over him, fisting at his own dick and then he climbed onto the bed, standing on his knees behind him. 

Jack pushed in and Kent and Kent bit down on his own thumb. He had always felt safe with Jack inside of him, always knew that no matter what, no one was going to get hurt, physically anyway.

“Kenny--” Jack’s moan was louder than he’d expected it to be. 

He compensated by whispering so quietly that Kent struggled to figure out what he’d said. 

“Is this a terrible idea?” Jack said for a second time. 

He didn’t stop thrusting into Kent, and Kent didn’t stop backing into him, rocking his hips, chasing the feeling. 

Kent turned around, shook his head, there’s sweat in his blonde hair 

“--Zimms, just fucking stop  _ thinking  _ for once and listen to me!” Kent groaned at the end of the sentence, Jack swiped at the head of his cock and the corners of his vision went blurry.

Kent kept going. Was convincing Zimms to join his teams while Zimms was literally balls deep in his ass the plan? No, but Kent wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity. 

“I’ll tell the GMs you’re on board and they can free up cap space and then you can be done with this shitty team. You and me,” Kent turned to look at Jack. 

Jack’s face went cold. Whatever warmth had been in his eyes previously turned to steel. 

“Get out,” Jack said, but he didn’t move his hands from Kent’s hips. He pulled him even closer, slamming his dick into Kent. Kent yelped

“Jack!” Kent said. 

“You can’t-- you don’t come to my fucking school unnanounced!” Jack picked up the pace. He was hitting Kent’s prostate hard with every thrust now, not that it seemed like he cared much about Kent’s pleasure anymore

Kent struggled to find words as the feeling spread throughout his body, went to his brain and made him stupid.

“Because you shut me out!” Kent said . He let his hands fall out from under him, face fell into the pillow. He reached for Jack and grabbed hold of his forearms, fingernails dug into Jack’s skin. 

He could feel Jack’s dick leaking pre-cum inside of him, in all the haste they’d forgotten a condom. Too late to worry about, it’s not the dumbest thing Kent’s done while underneath someone, not by a long stretch. 

“--And corner me in my room!” Jack shouted that time. Anyone standing in the hallway could have heard them,

“I’m trying to help--” Kent was cut off by another thrust, his back arched, he dug in harder with his fingernails

“And expect me to do whatever you want--” Jack grunts. 

“FUCK-- JACK!!” Kent finally exploded, half pleasure half anger, though he was having trouble telling those two feelings apart. 

Jack pinned him to the mattress neither one of them spoke. Kent came first, grinding down into the mattress, breathing heavy, he tensed up around Jack, it only took a few more thrusts for Jack to collapse, spilling inside of Kent, panting over top of him. 

Jack pulled out. Kent’s body protested, his mouth betrayed him when he groaned. Jack didn’t respond, his face was unreadable, pure hockey robot. He threw a pack of baby wipes at Kent and he quickly cleaned himself up. 

“What do you want me to say?” Kent said as he pulled his jeans back on, “That I miss you? I miss you, Okay?... I miss you.”

He reached out for Jack but Jack shook his head, he made himself busy with the buckle on his belt

“You always. Say. That.” 

Then Kent was angry. His hands shook as he did up the buttons on his shirt. He turned sharply to look at Jack

“Huh. Well, shit, OKAY!” Kent raised his voice, “You know what, Zimmerman. You think you’re too fucked up to care about? That your not good enough? Everyone already knows what you are but it’s people like me who still care,” Kent took another step forward, poked Jack in the chest.

“Shuttup,” Jack looked down at Kent’s finger and shook his head furiously. 

“You’re scared everyone else is going to find out you’re worthless, right?” And Kent knew exactly what to say “Oh, don’t worry. Just give it a few seasons, Jack. Trust me,” Kent always knew exactly what to say. A detailed list, an encyclopedia of ways to make Jack question his self worth. Things he never thought he’d use as weapons, and yet there he was, throwing them at Jack. Throwing them at someone he used to love so much that he considered giving up hockey so he could have all the rewards.

“G-get out of my room,” Jack’s voice was as small as Kent had ever heard it, but he was still a captain, he knew how to give an order. 

“Fine. Shut me out again,” Kent shrugged. He knew how he sounded, wanted to sound like he cared less than he did.

“And stay away from my team,” Jack’s voice shook. 

“Why? Afraid I’ll tell them something?” Kent got closer, leaned in, not for a kiss this time, never again for a kiss. 

This secret was the last thing he had with Jack. The last thing he could hold over Jack. It was probably the only thing Jack had on him either. It was mutually assured destruction if either of them ever spilled. Neither was going to, but the power was tantalizing. With one word, he thought, he could turn a team against it’s captain.  _ You’ll never believe what Zimms just did with me up there,  _ he imagines saying as he lazily leaves the house. He never will.

“Leave, Parse.” Jack says.

Kent opened the door. There was a kid sitting in the hallway holding a key, or at least he looked like a kid. Blonde, small, looking entirely ashamed. Kent could feel Jack suck in a breath behind him as he tensed up. He wanted to stay To help Jack figure out whatever the fuck was going on in his mind. To convince him to come back to Vegas. He wanted to hold him and kiss him and promise never to leave. But he  _ needed  _ to move on. He needed to forget about the boy who swallowed his meds a little too often, needed to forget the tender nights in the back of Jack’s truck, the wednesday afternoons after practice. Needed to forget whatever the fuck just happened in Jack’s bedroom. He pulled his hat out of his pocket and putit on his head. He turned with a shrug. Didn’t look back at Jack, left him with another pretty blond boy to fucking ruin, since he was so good at that. 

“Hey, well. Call me if you reconsider or whatever.” He won’t, “But good luck with the Falconers… I’m sure that’ll make your dad proud,” Kent said. 

He went home, flew back to Vegas, couldn’t figure out why he still felt so  _ bad  _ every time he thought about Jack. 


End file.
